At around 8:50 a.m. on September 15, 2023, I eased my mom’s Subaru Ascent onto West Beaver Avenue and set course for Rantoul, Illinois.

Just four months earlier, I’d been named to Onward State’s football beat during my first semester with the Blog, an opportunity I jumped at without realizing what it really meant. I knew hardly anyone before joining the beat and only had the chance to meet Joe, Nolan, and Stutz briefly before heading home for the summer. Mikey was abroad, and I met him just two weeks before we left to cover Penn State’s game against Illinois.

Traveling three states away in my mom’s car with four relative strangers to do a job I wasn’t 100% sure I could do was a terrifying prospect. Regardless, we took our thread selfie and away we went.

Illinois. pic.twitter.com/LhHpJc94lo

— Joe Lister (@iamjoelister) September 15, 2023

The trip to Rantoul remained the measuring stick of horrible hotel rooms for our era of the beat. While the possibility of two seasons filled with stained motel blankets and showers not cleaned since the Reagan administration should’ve scared me away, it didn’t. I loved the job.

What started as a halfhearted “why not?” quickly turned into my entire life. Casual sports fan CJ hated the fact that I dedicated countless hours to the team and could name every player up and down the roster, but I was getting to tell stories that people cared about. Whether you liked what I was saying or not, you read — that feeling’s addictive.

During my two years on the beat, we traveled nearly 10,000 miles by car to cover Penn State football. With the exception of a 100-mile stretch outside Atlanta (and two flights), I drove it all. 

You learn a lot about a person after spending ungodly amounts of time in a car with them, and those four relative strangers in Rantoul (with this year’s addition of Mitch) became some of my closest friends. I could earn five more degrees from Penn State, but I’m confident I still wouldn’t have learned as much as I learned in the front seat of the Subaru these past two seasons.

I always knew I needed to be a writer. With my nose in a book for as long as I could remember (my parents claim they started reading to me the night I got home from the hospital), I spent hours writing short stories on the desktop computer in the living room starting in early elementary school. When I couldn’t be at the computer typing, I’d be thinking about the next steps for the worlds I’d created that were waiting for me at home.

My very thinly veiled allegories that closely mirrored the styles of the authors I was reading at the time were terrible, but luckily, I had two English-teacher grandmothers who acted as my first editors, publishers, and Constant Readers. While other kids were in the professional athlete phase, I wanted to be the next Stephen King. To be honest, I still do.

For some reason, I put my passion for writing on the back burner and entered Penn State as an agricultural business major. My goals were misguided, and my only objective was to get a degree that would net me favorable numbers in my bank account. I came from an agricultural area, so why not?

After one semester learning about the market for corn futures and the advantages of seed blends for specific livestock, I grew tired of a lifelong rat race that hadn’t even begun. Visions of climbing a corporate ladder to take on increasingly mind-numbing Excel spreadsheets plagued my time in class. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, I was afraid of being unhappy. Maybe a freshman shouldn’t have been worried about that, but I was.

Enter Onward State. 

I joined Blog during the spring semester of my sophomore year and immediately jumped into coverage of women’s hockey and men’s volleyball. My enjoyment of writing was back stronger than ever, and this time, I had a real audience telling me I was good at it.

Writing about everything from pet pigeons to Penn State Athletics’ financial reports brought me much closer to the university I already loved, and it brought the things I loved about the university much closer to me. Since the home opener against West Virginia two years ago, I’ve missed one football game. I saw nine different college campuses, covered a game in four different NFL stadiums, and can now drive to the RV Hall of Fame and Howe Water Tower (two Big Ten road trip staples) with my eyes closed.

I’m a reporter, but to be completely honest, I can’t tell you much about those away games. I can’t remember any of Drew Allar’s stat lines or even the final scores, but that was never what it was about. I remember the first stop at the Toledo Culvers, I remember running the 40-yard dash on nearly every field we visited postgame, and I remember the midnight drive home from Columbus solving the world’s problems in a vacuum of conversation with whoever’s turn it was to stay awake in the passenger seat.

In crowds of more than 100,000 steeped in the traditions and pageantry of college football, it was the four people surrounding me that made the experience one that’s so hard to move on from.

Now it’s over. The torch was passed, and the beat’s no longer mine to obsess over. That doesn’t hurt nearly as much as leaving Penn State. 

I’ve loved my time in State College. I’ve known this transitory period with a myriad of endings was coming for a long time, but this story is the first real goodbye. After this, my time with Onward State is really finished. In two days, I’ll go to my last class. Two days after that, my Canvas calendar will be empty.

I’ve had family, friends, and professors alike remind me that the “fun” is likely over after walking across the stage two Saturdays from now. I try to ignore the tongue-in-cheek comment, but I think it’s an unfortunate reality. Part of the fun of the football road trips was the simple fact that we were still in college. More than a few times, tailgating Penn State fans would see our Onward State quarter zips and strike up a conversation to let us know they read the site and marvel at our travel plans. Now, just another writer on another pesky deadline.

But I’ll take solace in the fact that I’m going to be a writer at all. Four years ago, that dream was nearly forgotten. Some careers have easier paths than others, and making it in the journalism industry takes merit. I’m not afraid of hard work, I’m afraid of being unhappy. With writing, I don’t think that’s a concern.

I got to experience so much in college, and those opportunities are, for the immediate future, gone. I have faith I’ll get to even bigger and better things, but there’s a sinking feeling that it just won’t be as fun as the first time. That’s what talks of salaries, benefits, and PTO can do to a person.

Even as I sit here preaching the importance of following your dreams, I’m not fully taking my own advice. I’ll walk across the stage in the Bryce Jordan Center two Saturdays from now as a finance major, a degree I thought would be a good backup to ensure a happy bank account. Money skills are good skills to have, but I haven’t dreamed of it since I was young. It was better than agricultural business, but it still wasn’t something I could enjoy doing for 40 hours a week. I’m earning a degree in finance, but I need to give writing a shot.

These past few weeks have begun to feel like the days leading up to the trip to Rantoul. I don’t know a lot of people, I’m not really sure it’s going to work, and I just can’t get too excited about it. I’ve made my peace with leaving, I think. More than likely, I’m just numb.

At around 8:30 a.m. on May 19, I’ll ease my own Ford Escape out of the driveway and set course for the office of the Milton Standard Journal to start yet another chapter in my life. From there, who knows — and that’s OK. 

For now, I’m going to be a writer. I know that little kid at the desktop computer would be pretty damn proud.

“As you walk down the fairway of life, you must smell the roses, for you only get to play one round,” — Ben Hogan.

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Now, to the sappy thank yous. Feel free to quit here.

To Blog, I’ve never had a broken heart quite like this one. I poured everything into this outlet for the past five semesters, and while I haven’t been on staff as long as some of those graduating with me, I feel I’ve made an impact. Blog brought me numerous experiences, but more importantly, it brought me people. I’m not picking and choosing individual shoutouts, there would be way too many for me to write. Just know I’ll never forget our time together. I’ve never been more upset to reach the end of an Excel spreadsheet than at my last sports meeting, but I guess that’s the price of such a good time.

To my grandparents, I couldn’t have done it without your financial and emotional support. You’ve always been four of my biggest supporters, and the lessons I learned from each of you will stick with me for life. I wrote everything thinking of you because I knew that, no matter how small the story, you’d read. I’ve appreciated your encouragement from the very beginning. Sometimes, all I needed was for someone to ask an abundance of questions so I could just talk about my experiences to someone other than my parents. That was always you, and I’m endlessly grateful.

To Ella, it seems like just yesterday that we were trying to get you through Bulls on Parade on Guitar Hero (still haven’t gotten there, but we’ll keep trying). I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve never made a better decision than requesting East Halls as a freshman. I’m so proud of how far we’ve come, and I couldn’t have done what I did if it weren’t for your support. A simple text from you is enough to put a smile on my face, even three years later. You’re going to be immensely successful, and I can’t wait to be along for the ride. 

To my sister, Sabrina, I couldn’t be more excited that you’re coming to State College next year. You’re unapologetically you, and that’s something I can’t help but admire. I’ve been having a tough time with leaving, but seeing you take it all in for the first time a few weeks ago helped me feel better about it all. I hope you see the same magic I did. I can’t wait to watch you experience everything this place has to offer, and I’m terrified sure that you’re going to be so much more successful here than I was. It sucks to go, but at least I know there’ll be a Doebler looking after the place.

To my parents, where do I even start? I can’t possibly write an adequate thank you, but I’ll give it a shot. I love you so much, and I owe everything to you. You’ve always supported me no matter what, and I know that wherever I end up, we’re never going to be that far apart. You introduced me to so many different things and fostered a love of learning that I’m never going to shake. Those football road trips would’ve never gone as smoothly as they did if I hadn’t already spent thousands of hours in the car on road trips with you.  Going into the real world is scary, but it would be a whole lot scarier if I didn’t have you in my corner.

That’s all from me, folks. See you on a bookstore shelf real soon.

— C.J. Doebler
January 2023-April 2025